


Inktober 2018

by GalacticWanderer22



Category: Inktober 2018 - Fandom
Genre: Edge - Freeform, Inktober, Inktober 2018, Writing, creative writing, everyone dies, it's for Inktober, it's sp00py, like... a lot of edge, my writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticWanderer22/pseuds/GalacticWanderer22
Summary: I'm not the best artist, so I decided to write flash fiction for each of the Inktober 2018 prompts. I hope you enjoy!





	1. A Final Meal

Streyca was a very rural country. The people were mostly poor and barely scraping by. Most were hungry at the end of the day, and they all knew why. The King demanded the highest taxes without starving his people, so that he could import mass amounts of finery for his palace. Everyone knew this, including one young assassin. The young assassin thought that he should kill the king to right the wrongs he had committed. He believed that killing the king would bring wealth out to the people who desperately needed it. And this night was the perfect night for an assassination attempt. 

It was a cloudy, moonless night. The only light to be seen was the warm, glowing, orange of the street lamps casting black shadows along the cobbled roads The young assassin, as nimble as a black cat, scaled the palace walls and was sitting near a window next to the dining hall. The table was a long rectangle made of the finest mahogany, decorated with the finest red silk tablecloth with gold stitching and solid gold candelabras embedded with precious gems. The young assassin was furious. How could the King of Streyca hoard such luxuries to himself and the nobility?! While en route to the palace he had started to have second thoughts. What help would he be to his ailing mother if he was caught and executed for killing the king? But seeing all this wealth had clinched it, making the king a dead man. 

With him the most poisonous materials he could think of. He had Deadly Nightshade juice, arsenic, and a Black Widow spider in a jar. Before the king had arrived, the assassin had stealed down to the King’s goblet and poured the bottle of arsenic into it. He then poured the juice of Deadly Nightshade berries onto the roast turkey. The assassin saved the Widow spider for if the situation got truly dire. He disposed of the evidence by throwing the bottle that held the arsenic and the jar that held the juice into the fireplace, to burn and never be seen again. As he was starting to scramble back up the wall the guards came in to check on everything before the king and the nobility arrived. The assassin had been caught! He was dragged down to the dungeon for questioning later. The assassin heard shuffling above him, and the scraping of chairs against the floor. After a few minutes, he heard several shrill screams.

“The King has dropped dead!” He heard the ladies cry.

Several guards rushed down to the dungeon, to rid themselves of the assassin they knew had done the king in. He was quickly executed, and would be of no more help to his ailing mother.


	2. From the Grave

Welcome to my humble abode. It may be small, but it is now my home. It is sometimes warm, sometimes cool. I have been here for many a year. I had no say in why I was put here, but I’m here now, and have grown used to it. I wish for everyone to eventually come here, for we all go here anyway. 

There is no peace like there is here. No tranquility exists as purely as this, except maybe sleep. I wish for all to experience this when there time has come. To become a skeleton, like I have, and be buried in the earthen womb of our mother. To let dirt surround you for the rest of eternity. May we all eventually rest in peace, much like I am. 

It is not sad, nor is it happy, it simply is. It was as simple as the flick of a switch. One day, I was laying in bed, falling asleep. Then the next day, I am buried in the earth, quiet, and at ease. I may be gone, but I am not forgotten. From the grave I shall give my hellos, and from the grave I hear the weeping and the goodbyes. My time walking the surface may be over, but my time of tranquility has just begun. 

From the grave, I wish upon you, a time of tranquility like mine.


	3. The Witch

Screeching the highest, shrillest, screams was all she heard. The young witch had to watch as her former mentor was set alight, as if she was a candle wick. The smell of burning flesh and scorched hair filled the air. Burning, burning, torched was the old witch. All that was left after several long, agonizing minutes, all that was left was scorched, ashen bone. The embers dwindled, and crowd dispersed. 

The young witch headed back to her little hovel. As she headed back a trickle of people followed her. She thought nothing of it, and continued walking. Soon a few more people joined the following. She glanced back, and decided to speed up. Soon there was a mob following behind her, and she was running. She ran back to her hovel, dashed inside and slammed the door. The mob started tearing the house down, and grabbed her.  


“Witch!” they screamed, deafeningly loud.  


Hoisted over their heads, the young witch could see the pyre ready for her. She wasn’t ready to go, her debt had not been repaid, she would be brought down to the depths of hell, where here former mentor, and her demonic consort resided. She prayed to the higher powers to free her from this, so she could repay her debt before her death.  


“Witch! Witch! Witch!” the mob continued to scream, “Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”  


She was stuck to the pyre, and tied down. Time seemed to slow down, and she saw the torch being brought towards the kindling at her feet. As the torch was lowered, the townsfolk roared their approval. The torch struck the kindling and the fire began to roar. It arced over the wood, crawling up towards her. When the flames first lapped her feet, she screeched like she had never before. As she was burnt to a crisp, before her eyes only, her demon consort appeared.  


“Hello, darling,” he drawled, “I was hoping to see you again.”  


For the last moments of her life, she screamed and cried, before being burnt to a crisp, and joining the demon in the depths of hell.


	4. Taboo Wizardry

The old wizard stumbled around the old crypt, his spell for light having gone out a few minutes ago, but he doesn’t have the components to cast it again. So, he feebly feels around for what he’s looking for. 

“A dead man’s coin,” he mutters, pulling out a diobol from a skeletal mouth. 

“A lady’s finger,” he whispers, pulling the bone of the pinky finger off of her cold, skeletal hand. 

“And a child’s tooth,” he rasps, yanking a yellowing molar from a broken baby’s jaw. 

He hobbles his way out of the crypt, and blinks at the bright daylight spilling over the landscape. As he makes his way quickly over towards the tower where he makes his home. As the large wooden door opens with a loud creak, and he makes his way up the spiral staircase in the center of the room. Up, towards the top floor he heads up to the alchemical lab. The old wizard sets up a chair on the balcony to wait for the full moon to rise, rubbing his bad left knee while he waited. When the moon rose and reached its highest point, he stood. He rose his hand to the sky and tilted his head to face the moon. And at last, he began to chant. 

“Mortuos Suscitare Dormientes!” he chants. He repeats the chant thirteen times. He then tosses the molar, finger, and danaka into the air. Each item bursts into a cloud of dust that swirls together and coalesces into a ball of swirling gray and gold dust. Splitting off of the swirling mass were tendrils of the dust, and headed towards the graveyard in the nearby town. The tendrils burrowed their way in, taking hold of the long buried corpses and skeletons left, and they burst out of the ground, under no control. The wizard pays his price for this spell though. He begins to crumble where he stands, eventually turning to nothing but a pile of dust, a robe, and a glass eye. And the apocalypse has begun.


	5. You Scared?

“What are you, chicken?” one of his friends sneered, just daring him to turn tail. 

“N-no… I’m not chicken,” he stuttered, obviously frightened. 

He was a chicken, and he knew it. He hated being scared, he hated even the thought of being scared. But his friends forced him out here. They forced him out into the woods near the, apparently, haunted house. He never ventured near here. He had heard the rumors, of a murder happening here ten years ago, and he assumed it was true, seeing as how his parents had gotten the place he now lived so cheap. The woods out back were home to a large metal building with graffiti sprayed all over it. Sometimes at night, he heard shrill screaming coming from that area of the woods. His friends just called him crazy though. 

“Go on, do it, prove you aren’t chicken,” his friends sneered. 

“O-okay…” he mumbles. 

He shuffles towards the big metal building. When he enters through the dilapidated door, all that greets him is empty hallways. He shuffles around for a bit before he stops, and hears light tip-tapping behind him. He slowly turns around, and his face pales with horror. He sees a pale, ghostly, ashen specter before him. He shrieks as you would think a six-year-old girl would scream, but this was a teenage boy. He starts sprinting towards the exit of the building, not wanting to stay behind with the ghost. As he’s sprinting down the hallway, the specter glides after him, ragged nightclothes and pale face hanging wide, screaming like no other banshee could. The friends outside had heard all the noise, and fled into the woods, heading back towards the neighborhood. The boy continued running farther, farther, and faster and faster out of the woods towards his home. He breaches the woods and continues sprinting until he makes it inside. When he looks back out again, he sees the pale figure standing at the edge of the woods. The specter was female, with sunken, hollow eyes, and a ragged nightgown that was flying in the wind. The ghost gave one last banshee scream, before vanishing all together. The boy never went back into the woods, not even twenty dollars would get him back where the specter resided. Never again. He guesses he is chicken, after all.


	6. Mortifying

Drooling, groaning, shambling corpses. They moved slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, and they did. The zombies had crawled from there graves mere hours ago. The wizard had summoned them had died, freeing the horde from his control. They shambled towards the nearby town from the graveyard. It was the dead of night, none of the townsfolk were up. The guards who were, only thought it was the last few drunkards heading home. When the horde started pounding on doors in ernest, the guards took notice. One of the guards went over to one of the zombies, and turned it around, only to see an eye and nose missing from the decaying face. Stumbling back, he calls out to his fellow guards and tells them that these aren’t people, but zombies. Soon, a fight breaks out, of zombies flailing at the guards, and the guards swinging swords at the guards. 

One guard drops his sword. The zombie then grabs him, and goes to bite him. The guard captain rushes over. The zombie is leaning close to the guards neck. The captain cleaves the head off of the zombie. This sends a spurt of black and red ooze out of the neck. The guard thanks the captain for saving him, and is handed his sword back. They then go about dispatching the rest of the zombies. Several guards are downed in the process though. 

When morning rises, all the zombies are gone, but so are most of the guards. When the people rise from their deep slumber, they step outside to see corpses littered about. Several mourn for lost lovers, spouses, and children who were slain in the battle. The village refuses to let anything like this happen again, and takes the bodies over to a pyre, and burns them. 

And so, the funeral pyre gets its name.


	7. Ssshhh

Dave was exhausted, and just made it back to his dorm room after a long night of partying in preparation for Halloween. He was in college, and all the ladies loved him. He went up to the dorm to see that his roommate had been busy the whole day. The roommate, Paul, had refused to leave the dorm, saying he was going to be busy today, so he couldn’t go out. Now Dave understood why. Just entering the living room he could see tons of fake webbing, and glowing orange pumpkin lights decking the walls and ceiling. He saw a Jack-O-Lantern with a fake candle glowing on the kitchen table, and convincing fake blood everywhere. 

Dave went over to the room they had to share, since the dorm was so small. When he entered he saw a decapitated body on the floor. Dave startled, and backed up towards the door. Then Dave took a closer look, and found that it was just another prop that Jake had set up. Laughing to himself about being so startled, he went back to the living room. After he left the bedroom though, he failed to here the closet door slide open, and see someone in a light-up LED mask leave just behind him. 

The mask was a bright neon-green, with X's over where the eyes should be, and a huge Joker-esque grin. The masked man snuck up behind Dave, who was now in the bathroom, washing his face before he was going to go back to his room to get some sleep. Dave lifted his head to see the masked figure behind him, and stilled. He stood there, stock still, as if he were a statue. He doesn’t remember how long he stood there for. But then, Jake pulled off the mask with a sigh. 

“Really man, not even a slight jump? Come on dude,” he grumbled. 

“You did get me, but I’m too exhausted to jump,” Dave sighed, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

Jake laughed, then slapped Dave on the back before leaving the bathroom. Dave finished up and went off to the bedroom to get some sleep, too exhausted to deal with anymore of his roommate’s shenanigans.


	8. Shining

“You look so pretty dear!” her mother cooed. 

Her name is Luna, and here she is, ready for Halloween. Her mom had decided that the best costume for little Luna would be a shining star, with LEDs and everything. With the click of a button and BOOM, there she was, glowing like the star on a Christmas Tree. Maybe not the most appropriate turn of phrase for the time, but it fit the situation. She was ready on the night before Halloween. 

Halloween was here, and Luna was excited. Her family was going together to go Trick-Or-Treating. Her father was going as the Sun, her mom was going as the Moon, and Luna was a shining star. She was ready to go, neon pink pumpkin pale in hand. There was still a little light outside, as it was just reaching dusk in her neighborhood. 

“Don’t go to fast now little Moonpie, we have to stick together,” her father said. She knew why, safety and all that, how old did they think she was, 5?! Luna raced on ahead towards the nearest house and rang the bell. 

“Trick or Treat!” she shouted jovially, when the older man opened the door. He put some candy bars into her pale and she skipped off. She continued on like this off down the road, going to each house and shouting jovially. She was getting progressively farther from her parents all the while. When she turned around to show her parents all the candy she had gotten, she found that they were nowhere near her. 

Little Luna began to panic, she was frightened without her parents around. There were people in scary costumes and frightening decorations everywhere. Then she remembered, her costume lit up! If she turned it on, her parents would have to see her. She hit the little button on her costume, and the little lights on the edges of her costume lit up in a vibrant yellows. After standing there for a minute, her parents rushed up to her. She hugged them and they went on home. Despite this mishap, Luna had a great Halloween.


	9. Adventuring

Several heroes wandered the path towards the Demon General’s lair. The party kept moving along the path at an agonizingly slow pace, being stopped by the General’s soldiers every few yards. They fought bloody battles and rested often, letting time heal their wounds. It was a fierce fight to even make to the beast’s lair. 

When the party arrived at the lair, they heard a deafening roar echo around and out the cave entrance they were at. The group slowly creeped into the cave, going even slower than before. When they made it into the central room, they saw jagged holes that looked as if they had been clawed out. There were several large gaping holes as well rubble strewn about, like fresh wounds oozing blood. These looked as if they had been blasted out by magic. There were humanoid bones littered about everywhere. The party then realized that they might not have been the first group sent here to deal with this infamous Bone Devil. 

Out of the shadows slunk the Bone Devil. It was as white as the bones strewn about, with piercing red eyes that bored into their very souls. It had three enormous sets of wings, like that of a dragonfly. Claws, the claws of the Bone Devil were a sight to behold. Long and sharp, they looked as if they cleaved flesh from bone like someone cutting butter. The tail was another story all together. The tail was long and flexible, with a wicked blade at the end. Its gaping maw had rows upon rows of sharp fangs, worse than any shark or wild beast. The Bone Devil was a beast made to kill. 

The Cleric of the group sprung into action. He charged forward. Palm outstretched, necromantic magic wreathed his hand, ready to devour what it came into contact with. He struck the leg of the beast. The Bone Devil wailed an angry roar. Flesh and muscle on its leg began to disintegrate. Left in the magic’s wake was an oozing black wound. The beast made a swipe toward the Cleric, but he leaped out of reach. 

The Fighter lept into action. Pulling out a greatsword, they swung at the beast. A slash was carved into the Devil’s snout. The Devil roared once more. It swung at the fighter with jagged claws. The Fighter was nicked by beast and sent spiraling by the force. They landed with a huff and started to get back up. 

While the Fighter did battle with the beast, one of the Rogues snuck up to its injured leg. Silently, they pulled their rapier from its sheath. With a quick thrust, they stabbed in the black wound created by the Cleric. The beast roared once more, looking worse for wear than before. 

When the Bone Devil wailed in agony, the Warlock raised her hand and crooked her finger. Green, crackling, magic welled up from the tip of her finger. Three bolts of Eldritch force struck at stalactites hanging on the ceiling. Two were blown off the ceiling and sent hurtling downwards towards the beast. The third struck the wall, blowing a hole in it. The stalactites crashed into the beast. The Demon’s final roar was silenced. 

After the party took account for everyone, they went over to where the Demon had come from. In a little alcove they found precious items. Gems and jewels of all shapes and sizes, coins that glinted in the light and magical items galore. The party grabbed everything and rushed back to town, their victory complete.

**Author's Note:**

> Also note that all Inktober Prompts will also be on my tumblr, @galaticreblog. Have a sp00py day!


End file.
